Too Much Rope

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2020 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; M+/f; bond; rope; naked; strip; outdoors; cuffs; gag; susp; discovery; cons; nc; XX

(Consensual non consensual sex, if such isn't to your liking please stop reading here.)

My husband and I had played at our unique adult games in the woods several times when the weather was warm, each turning out well enough for me, and him as well judging by his repeat performances. Ordinarily he was a once and done kind of man at home, but in the woods far enough from the road so as not to be able to hear it, (and of course in combination with our rope kink) he turned into an absolute animal.

...At first his rope work wanted to fall off on it's own, but he had learned, binding me helplessly without cutting off my circulation these days, my struggles for escape both real, and not, as I didn't really want out of my bonds until he was good and done with me.

Originally we used clothesline, as it was easy enough to purchase in bulk without raising eyebrows, and cheap, but really only good for what it was intended. It was however cheap enough to play with and then quickly cut off of me when the deed was done, and this was the way we did it back then as the small rope tended to restrict my circulation if put on tight enough not to fall off, and this threatened the whole extended struggling "damsel in distress" feeling I was after. I simply loved to struggle in my bonds, it was about the best foreplay in the world for me, and my husband and I both eventually realized that we would have to invest in some better ropes to keep this game of ours both fun, and safe.

These days we used 5/8" soft cover rope ordered special on line. It wasn't as strong as one might think for such a large diameter rope, but it was made to be soft on the hands, not to mention on my wrists and ankles. It was more than strong enough for our purposes though, several lengths of it stashed at our favorite play area so we wouldn't have to carry it in and out all the time.

This particular day we got an early start, the car parked in the empty parking area, and I was somewhat confident we would be alone not only on the way in, but at our destination as well. My husband had the only pack, we equipped for a summer overnight hike to our favorite destination, he daring me to bump it up some though. I had almost nothing on anyway as it was supposed to be warm, our deal on play weekends being that if he carried the pack I would strip down as far as I dared on the way in.

...In our game I was to be his victim, hunted down and captured deep in the woods so he could have his way with his noisy and struggling captive once caught and properly bound. All in all a magnificent, if not highly kinky game. As awesome as this game was, it wasn't new and exciting anymore, the "been there and done that" precedent already set. It was also somewhat unrealistic, I needed to cooperate extensively with my "captor" while he bound my body in semi suspension for a proper plundering like no victim ever would. We had bedroom talked hypothetically about some variations on our games, and the one that excited me the most involved having others plunder my bound body instead, perhaps even while HE was tied up and forced to watch. I thought that was obviously a rather huge step to take all at once in the real world, and one best left a bedroom fantasy.

I got the whole testosterone bump from my man being forced to hunt me down in the woods like a caveman, and playing the noisy and helpless victim obviously did something wonderful for me as well, but having one or more of our friends participate - while in concept excitingly naughty - could make life uncomfortable for all concerned after the fun was over.

In my mind, sharing this kink of ours even with our single friends could make us very unpopular, or even wildly so, one never really knows, but keeping it between ourselves seemed the safest to me all things considered...

It was also one thing to be made to strip down to my bikini with my more presentable clothes safely in the pack in case we heard or saw somebody, quite another if those clothes were instead locked in the car. It was a deeper level of commitment, and exciting as hell. I was confident enough in both my body and my tan that I didn't mind showing it off now and again; it was entirely different to do so on a public beach where others were dressed the same. As opposed to nearly alone here just into the woods, the latter screaming "sex, here we come!" to whomever should happen see me.

Make me do this, I thought in my mind as hard as I could, all while telling him out loud that it would be way too risky to lock my clothes in the car as he had playfully threatened.

We had this conversation all the time, I wondered when he would truly understand what made me tick. "It is better to beg for forgiveness than ask permission" I quoted in my mind once again. My husband had heard the mantra from me so many times that he just rolled his eyes when I started it now.

"EVERYTHING OFF BUT THE BOOTS AND SOCKS RIGHT NOW, IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU!" he commanded. I finally thought he understood me as my nether regions responded to his firm commands with a mind of their own. I speed stripped out of my little cut-off shorts and tank top and presented my scant clothes to him, respectfully. He placed them on the ground and asked me if I knew the way to our spot by heart, as I stood before him in just my string bikini and hiking boots.

I did and told him so, he then took our handcuffs from his back pocket - wrapped in a brand new bandana that I had never seen before - and cuffed my wrists in front of me. I watched passively, the cuffs being a big first for us here in the woods. He pressed a water bottle into my cuffed hands, as if to reinforce the notion that I would be traveling to our destination both alone and cuffed for the first time ever, after he made sure the double lock was set and the cuffs couldn't tighten themselves if bumped.

He had not yet picked up my clothes to bring them back to our car - in the still empty and very close parking lot - as I had expected he would. Both he and I were apparently waiting for something, but I got the feeling that something was different for each of us. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, this hollow threat of making me find my way to our play spot on my own while helplessly wearing only cuffs and a bikini, but it certainly was different, and therefore had my juices flowing.

One can't repeatedly challenge their significant others to take charge and make one do things, but then complain when they do, without becoming a hypocrite. I had no intention of becoming one that day. Still I stood there though, just waiting for him to take my shorts and shirt back to the car so we could get going, before somebody else showed up in the parking lot. I was obviously far more exposed than he, in my handcuffs and neon pink bikini, and far more at risk of embarrassment at the very least should somebody happen by.

One also can't blame this man of mine for misunderstanding my hesitation to get going, he had after all asked me if I knew the way, clearly implying what he wanted me to do, but he had also told me to strip off "everything" and I had yet to do that.

"I have all day!" my loving and kinky husband opined, in a most threatening tone. My reluctance to "get going" I think told him to expect some playful resistance, although while wearing a pair of handcuffs that was difficult at best. It would also be difficult to reach the actual strings on the back of my bikini while wearing them even if I had wanted to. My husband's impatient solution to this little problem was to pull the strings himself and strip me naked right there on the trail, well within sight of the parking lot, then smacking my bare behind firmly and telling me to get moving.

I took off like a shot, not only because of his stinging and noisy slap on my bare bottom that was likely to draw attention, but because self preservation told me to be anywhere but there. I expected to turn and see him walking up behind me, but when I looked over my shoulder I instead saw him walking toward our car with my things in hand, and I then wondered in a moment of horror if he had decided to up this game of ours even more than I expected and really abandon me helplessly naked in the woods.

Would he do such a thing and actually leave in our car, perhaps coming back later and expecting to "capture" me himself at or near our spot, after I had wandered about a few hours naked and on my own? Or would he enlist others to do so in his stead, gifting me to them for their bound sexual entertainment, and then who knows what afterward?

Selling me into slavery and buy something nice like a summer house for himself with the proceeds, was one such kinky suggestion I had offered during bedroom talk, but obviously not seriously. Anything like that would be an incredible escalation of our games, but a subject that had obviously entered our bedroom talk many times, and in keeping with my "...beg for forgiveness..." mantra.

No matter what my husband had intended, my only real choices were to walk back to the parking lot and look for a ride from either him, or someone else, or, much more practically, find my way to our spot as I had been told to do, either he, or whom he intended, likely to eventually find me there...

My long and naked hike turned out to be a magnificent adventure, and the helplessness of both the cuffs and my total nudity was something I just knew I would have to be "forced" to do again, despite the feeling on and off of being watched. Several times during my hike the forest got dead quiet, no birds could be heard, nor small ground creatures like squirrels and rabbits either. When I noticed this silence I immediately stopped and listened, going down into a hiding posture in case somebody were about and spying on me, but I never saw a soul and attributed the quiet to the disturbance my own passage had created among the more natural forest inhabitants.

I didn't have very long to wait for my husband once I eventually arrived at our spot, but I will admit that the sounds of his arrival made me crouch and hide behind a large boulder in much less than courageous fashion, until I was sure it was him. I had suspected he was behind me close enough to keep an eye on me should something go wrong, his presence possibly what I had felt behind me on my own hike in, his timely arrival suggesting this was likely.

...It was eerie though, as if I were for real being stalked by evil and opportunistic characters who had somehow stumbled upon my cuffed exposure on a nature hike of their own, wishing to capitalize on my helplessness for their own rather predictable purposes. In my erotic day-dreams there were always several men who wished to do evil and fun things to my helplessly bound body, as I was powerless to resist them...

I greeted my playful husband - once I was certain it was him - with a very passionate kiss. I was so relieved to see him, telling him insincerely that stripping and cuffing me and making me find my own way here was very nasty. He saw right through my mock protests. I so wanted to put my arms around him and properly thank him for my awesome naked adventure, but my cuffed wrists made that awkwardly impossible.

"Today I'm not your husband, I'm just some guy who was lucky enough to find some hot chick on a naked nature hike, and once I have you properly strung up I'm going to have my way with you as many times as I can." My wonderful husband even changed his voice to make it sound menacing, to perpetuate the illusion for me.

This was as well a new twist for us, but in keeping overall with our captured fantasy games, and I wholly approved.

"If you want me you'll first have to catch me!" I ran for the trail, startling my captor in the process. If he was willing to up the ante on this game of ours, I could well do the same.

My captor easily caught me, blindfolded me with his bandana and threw me over his muscular shoulder like a sack of beans. I didn’t struggle too much, lest I fall down and for real get busted up.

I knew where he was taking me as this was our play spot; it had some boulders for sitting up on, a nice smooth clearing for our tent, and most importantly two small white birch trees about six feet apart and near the fire pit we had made. It was one of these that our supplies were chained to, and I assumed where he left me standing, when he tied off a rope to the center part of my cuffs. He hauled this up in the air - I assumed the line tossed over a convenient branch - while I was helplessly held in place by the move, even though no real weight was on my wrists.

I couldn't put my arms down either though, and this allowed my captor to prepare the trees for my quasi-suspension display. It was actually quite comfortable. I was stripped of my boots and socks and made to stand on the two five gallon buckets we had stashed at the site - one each at the base of each tree - as my captor took up the slack in the line running to my cuffs to help me balance on the wobbly buckets. This spread my legs quite wide and increased my exposure, but was a necessary prelude to the show I was about to perform in.

It was a great position for my husband as I am quite a bit shorter than he - and quite flexible - everything was about perfect for his later plundering when he was finally done binding me. This part of our game was quite time consuming though.

My ankles this time were first, several wraps of thick rope around both my right and the tree's four inch trunk, and I'm guessing about a foot of space between both as usual. The coils between were then wrapped tightly tree to ankle with the excess rope and tied off expertly, the mass forming a stiff stand off from the smooth bark of the tree and partially resembling a noose, or so I assumed based on our previous adventures while bound in similar fashion to these same trees. I was still blindfolded though, so this was a guess, but an educated one.

My left was next, symmetry always important to my captor, this a visual thing as much as a bound and helpless sexual thing for him, or so I had observed. It was, to be sure, inescapable, at least for myself, and releasing me from my bonds took just as much time as putting me into them. Or possibly even longer, as my hanging struggles always tightened my captors knots.

With my ankles secure my wrists were next, but here my husband had to step up on one of my five gallon pails to reach, first uncuffing one wrist only, the other still suspended above my head to aid my precarious balance. To fall now might possibly break one of my ankles, but at the very least it would ruin the mood.

We had not done this with cuffs before, my spread wrists usually were bound between the trees first, while I stood cooperatively on one bucket, my husband using the other as a convenient platform to reach and bind my wrists. This challenged the whole "captured damsel" premise of our kinky game, and to be sure I liked this way better, as I did the blindfold.

My left wrist was tied in similar fashion to my ankles, but here he had provided a series of loops for me to grasp in the palm of my hand, lowering the pressure on my wrists and giving me something to hold onto should one or both the buckets I were standing on kick out in the heat of the moment. That would result in a full suspension spread eagle bondage, and while I liked the concept, I didn't know if I would like it, or even how long I could last hung up on display like that if I did.

My right wrist was next, and once that was done I was about as helpless and exposed as I could get. The blindfold added a great deal of mystery to what was already a fairly kinky scene. I didn't even know if I was facing toward or away from where we usually pitched our tent in the clearing, but at that moment I didn't necessarily care. I was more interested in my captor getting to the fun part, but he apparently had other ideas. I heard rustling behind me, which I assumed was him setting up our tent instead. I yelled out "Hey! What about me?" perhaps coming out just a little louder than I might have wanted.

"Keep it down, we might have some company here," my husband yelled in an odd sort of whisper. It was a good ploy, and he almost had me there for a second, but I knew he was playing at this evil alter ego character of his, and being blindfolded and imagining there were several men stalking me at that very moment was as exciting as hell.

...Strung up as I was, they could do anything they might like to me, for as long as they liked. It was a fantasy I had shared with my husband several times, and living it out, even in imaginary form, was just awesome. I knew I would have to find some special way to thank him for that, other than sating his lust as many times as he could manage...

"Get me down from here then!" I whisper-shouted back to him, thinking to keep the mood of the scene he had so carefully crafted entirely for my benefit.

"Too much rope, it would take too long," he whispered, much closer to me now. His tone was excellent in conveying just the right amount of panic and dread.

"Stay here and let me see what is going on," he told me, foolishly. Like I was going anywhere, no matter if there were somebody actually watching and stalking us, or not.

I was left naked and strung up in a spread-eagled display as the minutes ticked by. I dismissed the premise that there were really other men out there stalking us, or more precisely, me. But, perhaps I could pretend so, just to keep the illusion alive for both myself, and my husband.

I heard gagged and muffled protests. I was well familiar with gags myself, as we played with them in our kinky games at home. Never in the woods though, the anguished sounds I make when brought to body-tremoring orgasm music to my husband's ears, and unlikely to draw unwanted attention as far away from the road as we were.

"Yes, what about you? What... are... we... to do... with... YOU?" The voice was raspy, slow and threatening.

Several firm smacks on my ass were my apparent reward for my earlier "What about me?" quip, and I yelped with each as my body swayed in its bonds. I kept to myself that this time they really stung, but to do so might spoil the mood my husband had worked so hard to create. This was the second time that he had swatted me in the same day, although this time much more ferociously than the love tap of before. I didn't see it coming, strung up and blindfolded as I was, and this possibly made it worse.

This rougher version of my captor together with his altered voice perhaps was his own rougher alter ego. I could work with this though, and to let him know that I was up for this kind of thing I goaded my mysterious captor on further.

"Is that all you got?"

I don't know what I expected, but both five gallon buckets getting kicked out from under my feet simultaneously wasn't on the list. My body dropped with a loud grunt as the slack was taken up, my legs still supporting some of my weight, but now by my ankles and not my toes. I reached blindly for the buckets incredulous as to what just happened, my toes pointed and reaching, elongating my legs as if I were wearing stilettos. They found nothing, but I continued to irrationally search with the very limited scope of movement they had.

The drop spread my legs further apart as well, but my arms bore the brunt of my weight now and were pulled taut, on instinct grasping the loops my husband had provided me. This was so out of character for my husband that I just didn't know what to say, I was shocked to silence... But my mind roamed to several dark places...

The buckets beneath my feet were almost six feet apart, and not possible for a single man to kick from under me at the same time, and for the first time I thought that there might actually be...

I then heard fumbling with the buckets - they have a distinctive sound in the quiet forest - and I found myself temporarily relieved, he had to be putting them back where I could once again stand on them.

Not so, I was to learn seconds later. A man - not smelling like my husband at all - stood up on one of the buckets behind me, the feel of his open flannel shirt rubbing my naked skin with his intimate closeness. This man then lifted my long hair from behind, and attempted to gag me with what felt like another bandana, although this one had a long knot tied into it, that part feeling long and pressing on my closed lips.

"Open up!" The man hissed in my ear.

I shook my head no in defiance, although that was foolish, I was in no position to resist whatever this man, or men wanted from me.

As if to drive this point home, the man then ran his finger from my bare hip to my armpit... slowly; I squealed and attempted to escape his tickling finger, which of course was hopeless. He took advantage of this though, predictably, pushing the odd knot deep into my open mouth, then tying off the gag behind my head roughly. This didn't render me silent however, it just prevented intelligible conversation, and of course prevented any over loud screams if things should go that way.

"Let me go!" I attempted into my gag, but it didn't come out sounding anything like that, even to me.

The man laughed behind me, it was a sinister kind of laugh, and not one of humor. He reached around me and roughly grabbed both of my boobs, one in each hand, their full mass held high by the taut positioning of my arms as if I were nineteen again.

The man savagely pinched my erect nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, and then partially lifted me by my boobs while mashing his chest into my back, sandwiching me in between. The weight came off my arms once again as my ankles were pulled taunt; I groaned into my gag even though it didn't really hurt in the big scheme of things.

The man's move did cause me on reflex to roll my head backwards, the back of my head impacting the face of my unseen assailant standing behind me, on, I presumed, one of our buckets. He either jumped off or fell with a sharp curse as he let me drop in the process, my boobs dropping at about the same time my body was once again jerked to a stop in it's free fall by my bonds. I bore down on my gag, like a horse might it's bit, as I grunted, though I did not intend this to be a counterattack on my assailant.

Did he know that? If not, I could imagine several methods of excruciating torture I was in perfect positioning for, men's leather belts making excellent improvised short whips, as did sticks and thorny branches even more commonly found in the woods. There even had to be some excess rope, not perhaps the best whip material to be found - most especially our specially purchased soft cover variety - but long enough to generate some incredible speed, and therefore carnage on a soft skinned human female target like myself...

Fortunately my feared whipping didn't come, although being strung up and whipped was an all time hottest erotic fantasy ever that I hadn't even shared with my husband. I read about such in a love story kind of paperback book once when I was a teen, the erotic - and obviously crazy - desire a recurring fantasy that brought me off more times than I care to admit, back when I was single.

The man did get back up behind me, this time keeping his head away from my own, my gagged "Sorry" perhaps not even understood by him. He then gathered my long hair in his hands like a hairdresser might, I perplexed as to what he intended. As it turns out I didn't have long to wait.

The man gathered my hair into a mass, twisted it about, and then did something. I couldn't tell with what, but the result was my hair was up and off my back and neck, and I was reminded of the erotic whipping scene I had read as a teen, the victim's hair in that instance was bound up similarly to get it off of HER back, so the whip had more uncluttered bare flesh with which to bite.

My mind raced, but there was little I could do about it, no matter what, other than to beg for mercy, which I did. But, gagged as I was, I could have been whimpering about just about anything.

I exclusively felt what happened next, but what was entwined in my hair was apparently attached to the rope hanging over my head that I had allowed myself to forget about. Then the rope was pulled, pulling a strand of hair here and there painfully, but the real result was my head was elevated in a chin held high posture. It felt as if my head were held looking high over those below me in haughty fashion, or perhaps only so they could clearly see the torment on my anguished face and hear my gagged screams as my punishment was brought to bear.

The man, apparently satisfied with his work, jumped down, and I knew this was suddenly very real...

Continues in


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